


Salve

by Hesiones



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hesiones/pseuds/Hesiones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hush of night, the rippling water, and the comfort of a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salve

     “Hello, Tirion.”

     Tirion knickers softly. Crickets chirp outside the stables, other bugs whir and vocalize their summer night calls as I run a hand over Tirion’s snout. She’s a quiet mare: a young bay with white socks and a high head.

     While I get her ready for a short night ride, I happen to glance at the stall of Levi’s mare, Veronika. Who’s absent. Well, it’s not unlike Levi to go on night rides too. Maybe I’ll encounter him.

     I vault into the saddle. We set off at a leisurely walk. The moon sits high above us, lighting the trail and revealing fresh hoofprints in the leaf litter.

     Small swirls of honey and mint (which I haven’t tasted in years) rise and play in my stomach. Yes, I like Levi. No use denying it to myself. Yes, I’m irrationally happy that he’s also outside, also riding on this trail. No other hoofprints are visible.

     But, well, I don’t know how he feels about me. It doesn’t matter, though. Levi’s a good person, and I’m honored to be counted among his (very few) friends.

     A stream is nearby, singing its way over stones and sand. I steer Tirion off the trail, towards the sound. We can always catch up to Levi later. Plus, I’m not sure if he wants to be found.

     The stream’s just a few paces away. Up here on Tirion, the snags of the undergrowth don’t bother me much, though I do have to brush away a few branches from our path.

     By the creek, it’s considerably cooler. I dismount and let Tirion bend her down to lap at the gurgling water. I’ve never seen this part of the stream before. A pool lies under a small waterfall that’s ten or so meters upstream. Hm.

     “Come, Tirion. Let’s go over there.”

     I pick up her reins and lead her over the uneven rocks, towards the pool. Tirion displaces a few pebbles with her hooves – some of them clatter down into the water, landing with soft plunks. I can hear frogs in the shadows, croaking to each other over the rush of the stream. Leaves whisper and rustle in the warm night breezes. We keep silent, Tirion and I, to listen to everything else.

     I let her off again to do as she pleases – she’s a good, calm horse. She deserves a break from me. I myself crunch over the pebble beach to the pool. The pool’s deep. I expect that, in the sunlight, it’s an algae-tinted viridian or a greenish turquoise in color. I wonder if there’s any fish here. Too bad I didn’t bring any fishing gear with me, but there’s not enough light to see, anyway. Maybe next time.

     I sit down by the edge of the pool and pull of my boots, then my socks. Setting them aside, I dip my bare feet into the slightly cool water. Mmm.

     Tirion grazes nearby, tail swishing contentedly. (I can’t see her, but I know the sounds she makes well enough.) I lift my feet out of the pool and just dabble them on the water’s surface, creating little plops of sound.

     It’s nice here. Tranquil. My scalp itches. I pull my hair tie out, put it in a pocket, and shake my head to loosen the tightness in my skull. Waves fall down to my shoulders. Ah, mutch better.

     Huh. Should I go for a swim?

     No, I won’t. I might catch a chill – and I didn’t bring extra clothes or a towel or anything. Additionally, I can’t be out here too long. I still need some portion of a good night’s sleep, something I haven’t been having very often.

     I’ve been leaning back on my hands, but the gravel hurts my palms a little (even through the calluses), so I shift my weight forward and bend over to wash the sand and dirt off.

     A horse knickers a greeting. Tirion responds in like, raising her head up from the foliage. Is it Levi and Veronika?

     “Hange?” It’s Levi and Veronika. Levi’s seated on the mare, but he dismounts near Tirion and leaves Veronika to graze too.

     “Levi! Hello!” I can’t help but smile as I take my hands out of the pool and shake the water off them. He strides over to me, lowering himself down to the ground. I wipe the rest of the dampness onto my pants.

      Oh, when was the last time he saw me with my hair down? I don’t normally let it down in public – it’s not practical. So, maybe once. Or twice? The last time was about a year ago. It’s a little embarrassing, but I’m somewhat proud of my (flowing, chestnut) hair. I know, I know, it’s silly. Everyone knows I’m a silly person, but I suppose it would surprise people if they knew this. This, this is a different kind of silly.

     Levi leans back on his elbows, not bothering to roll up his shirtsleeves. His shirt will get sand on it. He’s not worrying?

     He must be tired. Not the kind of tired that sleep (which we all need anyway, so that puts us on equal footing) can cure. Soul-tired. Mentally exhausted.

     “If you mind me asking,” I inquire. “What’s on your mind?”

     A small moment, about two seconds. Two breaths.

     “Nothing.” He states.

     Then another two breaths.

     “Everything.” He amends.

     Ah. And isn’t this year’s batch of trainees arriving tomorrow morning?

     He’s very close to me, only the width of a hand’s distance to my right. The back of my shoulder tingles while I take in the shining black of his hair, the sculpted body under his white shirt, the tilt of his neck and the quartz-gray gleam of his eyes catching the pale moonlight.

     His chest rises and falls as he sighs and pushes himself off the ground, brushing the gravel off his shirt. Levi leans forward, tucks in his knees, and rests his arms on them. I lay a hand on his warm shoulder. Honey and mint and sparks flush up my arm, but all he needs is comfort right now.

     He lets my hand sit for a few moments, then reaches up with his left hand to take it.

     My blood speeds up the circuit through its vessels. Levi rubs the pad of his thumb over my palm gently, explores my fingers, memorizes each and every fold of skin, all while staring off into the distance.

     That – that is most definitely… what? Does he even realize how much attention he’s paying my hand?

     I give him one, two, five minutes to stop, to let my hand go, to go on as normal, to forget anything out of the ordinary has ever happened. But he keeps holding, fiddling with my hand.

     But he’s clearly not going to flick my palm aside and go back to leaning on his elbows. Well, I might as well indulge myself, so I let him absentmindedly play with it. A moment of peace, I suppose.

 

     “Levi.”

     “Hmm?” When he looks at me, I make sure to scrutinize him closely. There’s… something in his eyes, though it’s quickly replaced by his usual, impassive mask.

     “We should go back. You’ll need your rest; the new recruits are coming tomorrow.”

     “All right.”

     We stand up, brush the sand off our clothes, but he still grasps my hand in one of his. So he really needs comfort, eh? Normally, Levi doesn’t deign to even touch his comrades. Have morbid thoughts of the death rate of new trainees shaken him this much? I don’t blame him, I suppose, but he’s never shown this much anxiety over new trainees in the past. Perhaps it’s because he’s never gotten much exposure to them, but since he’s had to take care of Eren, he’s put a lot more thought into it all.

     In any case, I think he needs a friend, whether he wants one or not.

     I tug at the hand of his that’s holding mine and pull him into a bear hug, ignoring the shooting stars under my skin. He finally lets go of my hand.

     “Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay, Levi.” I soothe, patting his hair. “We all signed up for this, we all knew what we were getting into.”

     Levi is so still, so close for a minute, but then his arms – gone limp – move again. One goes around me, the other reaches up to snake its way into my hair, grab my head, and bring it down so that his eyes are level with mine.

     My breath hitches, but I force it to remain steady. I want to say something full of meaning, or at least something intelligent (and get a “Yes, I do love you.”).

     But all I can manage to get past my throat is a faint: “What’s on your mind?”

     Levi wets his lips unthinkingly. His breath is quick and fast and sweet. Across his face is a desperate, stricken, searching look.

     “You.” He finally whispers, and crushes me so tight to him and suddenly his mouth is on mine and I’m drowning in sweet, sweet, electricity-laced nectar and if I’m drowning I don’t feel the need for air, you know? He’s pure oxygen, delivered straight to my lips, rushing into my lungs and filling my arteries and I _breathe_ him.

     We hang onto each other for dear life.

     I guess he isn’t oxygen after all, though I can’t imagine how I’ll ever fully go back to mundane, ordinary air. We stop and pant for breath. Levi takes his hand from my hair and slides it around to the nape of my neck, then quickly goes back to kissing me – my lips (here he gently removes my glasses and places them in one of his trouser’s pockets), my forehead, my nose, my ear, my cheek, down my throat. He nibbles my collarbone and I give an embarrassing (though I really don’t care at this point), high-pitched gasp as I arch my neck. He trails his lips back up, this time slower and more deliberate and it works – I make muffled noises in the back of my lightning-flushed throat.

     Levi stops just under my chin and sighs, burrowing his face in the crook of my neck. He moves his hand down to sit around my waist, then shifts and settles his arms into a more comfortable position. I use my left hand to brush back a few stray locks of Levi’s and plant one last kiss on his forehead before I bury my face in his hair.

     We stay there, listening to each other breathe while soft heartbeats flutter in our chests.

**Author's Note:**

> Tirion is a name that means "gentle" in Welsh. Veronika has is origins in Greek and means "bringer of victory". I just felt like giving their horses names.


End file.
